Draw And Drink.

Milk still your fountains and your springs: for why?
The more th'are drawn, the less they will grow dry.

Robert Herrick

Robert Herrick was a 17th-century English lyric poet and cleric. He is known for his book of poems, "Hesperides," which includes the carpe diem poem "To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time." His works are noted for their clarity, simplicity, and musical quality. Herrick was also a vicar of Dean Prior in Devon, despite being ejected during the English Civil War and later reinstated.

Robert Herrick

The Bellman

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

To The Handsome Mistress Grace Potter

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

The Mount Of The Muses.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

The Virgin Mary.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

To The Water-nymphs Drinking At The Fountain

Reach with your whiter hands to me
Some crystal of the spring;
And I about the cup shall see
Fresh lilies flourishing.

Or else, sweet nymphs, do you but this
To th' glass your lips incline;
And I shall see by that one kiss
The water turn'd to wine.

Robert Herrick

To Springs And Fountains.

I heard ye could cool heat, and came
With hope you would allay the same;
Thrice I have wash'd but feel no cold,
Nor find that true which was foretold.
Methinks, like mine, your pulses beat
And labour with unequal heat;
Cure, cure yourselves, for I descry
Ye boil with love as well as I.

Robert Herrick

A Bacchanalian Verse.

Drink up
Your cup,
But not spill wine;
For if you
    Do,
'Tis an ill sign;

That we
Foresee
You are cloy'd here,
If so, no
    Ho,
But avoid here.

Robert Herrick

To Youth

Drink wine, and live here blitheful while ye may;
The morrow's life too late is; Live to-day.

Robert Herrick

Draw-Gloves

At draw-gloves we'll play,
And prithee let's lay
A wager, and let it be this:
Who first to the sum
Of twenty shall come,
Shall have for his winning a kiss.

Robert Herrick

Drawing Water.

Dark, as if it would not tell,
    Lies the water, still and cool:
Dip the bucket in the well,
    Lift it from the precious pool!

Up it comes all brown and dim,
    Telling of the twilight sweet:
As it rises to the brim
    See the sun and water meet!

See the friends each other hail!
    "Here you are!" cries Master Sun;
Mistress Water from the pail
    Flashes back, alive with fun!

Have you not a tale to tell,
    Water, as I take you home?
Tell me of the hidden well
    Whence you, first of all, did come.

Of it you have kept some flavour
    Through long paths of darkling strife:
Water all has still a savour
    Of the primal well of life!

Could you show the lovely way
    Back and up through sea and sk...

George MacDonald